Snow Falls
by Marauders2003
Summary: Sequel to Snow Burns: Genevieve’s at Hogwarts once again — but not as a student! She’s seeing the school from a different point of view. With the new knowledge of her mother’s past and Voldemort being out in the open, it seems like everything has changed. But sometimes, change can help us discover who we truly are, and Genevieve feels as though she’s finding herself all over again.
1. Chapter 1: A New World

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Just about the first thing Genevieve learned about being a full-fledged adult with a job was that it came with a fair bit of drama. Of course, she'd joined the Order just as soon as she possibly could and had spent a slightly awkward fortnight with her father, in which she has told him about her employment and he couldn't bring himself to talk about her mother, after the new revelation that she had been a Black, but none of it could have prepared her for sitting at Mrs. Weasley's table, clutching a large mug of tea, while Tonks silently cried and Mrs. Weasley patted her back comfortingly.

Genevieve had first come to Mrs. Weasley for advice — and to take up the offer of tea the woman had been extending all summer through Ginny's letters, which usually complained in great detail about Phlegm, or Fleur, to whom Bill had proposed. She'd been debating visiting Charlie since term had ended. After all, so much in her life had been uprooted and turned around, and letters — especially as they could be intercepted — simply couldn't express it all.

She had knocked on the door at about eleven, when she knew the others would be asleep, and Mrs. Weasley had nervously called through the door:

"Who's there? Declare yourself!"

"Er — it's Genevieve Snow, Mrs. Weasley. I was hoping to take you up on the offer for tea."

She opened the door, smiling widely, but looking exhausted all the same.

"Genevieve, dear! I was worried so, Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be bringing Harry come morning, and, well . . ."

"I understand, Mrs. Weasley," Genevieve replied, her eyes following Mrs. Weasley's to the family clock. All of the nine hands, which represented the family members, pointed to "mortal peril."

"Been like that since You-Know-Who came out into the open," Mrs. Weasley explained with a sigh. "Well, come in, Genevieve, and please, call me Molly."

"Er — thanks, Molly."

Genevieve had stepped inside the house and no sooner had she been given a mug than she had spilled all of her thoughts over the past two weeks, with Sirius, and her father, and Hogwarts, and her frustrations over not being able to tell any of this to Charlie, who was usually her greatest confidant. Mrs. Weasley had smiled knowingly.

"Ah yes, you have always shared a rather special relationship with Charlie, haven't you? Well, I happen to know that he is off tomorrow, so why not go see him in Romania? Here — " She scribbled an address on a bit of parchment and withdrew a photo of a house from her robes. "This is where he lives, I'll let him know you're coming to visit."

"Thanks, Molly," Genevieve smiled. "So, er — Arthur's gotten promoted, has he? Ginny told me just a few days ago."

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "He's heading up the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Got ten people reporting for him now!"

"That's wonderful! Tell him I said congrat — "

She was cut off by knocking. Mrs. Weasley rushed to the door.

"Who is it? Declare yourself!"

"It's Tonks, Molly," came a rather dejected voice.

Mrs. Weasley opened the door immediately and hugged the Auror, whose hair had changed to a mousy brown.

"Oh, do sit down! Tell me, what's he done this time?"

"Wotcher, Genevieve," Tonks mumbled, looking uncomfortable.

"I can leave, if you'd like," Genevieve offered, standing up.

"Oh, that's nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley declared. "She might be able to give an outside opinion about all this, you know!"

And so Genevieve had been filled in about Tonks and Lupin. She let out a deep breath.

"So he loves you too, but he's afraid . . . because he's a werewolf?" Genevieve said for confirmation. Tonks nodded miserably. "Well, that's idiotic, but I can see his reasoning. He thinks himself too . . ." she fished around for a word, "broken for you. You've got to make sure he knows he isn't."

"That's what I've been telling him!" Tonks let her hair drop onto her arms, which rested on the table, in defeat. "He won't listen."

"Lupin's smart, he'll come around," Genevieve said reassuringly. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"He's being ridiculous," she muttered. "You love him, that's what matters."

Somebody knocked at the door. Mrs. Weasley strode over to it.

"Who's there?" she demanded. "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."

Mrs. Weasley opened the door.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky. Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora, Genevieve!"

"Hello, Professor," Tonks mustered a smile. Genevieve waved at them. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks, Genevieve."

"I'd better be off," Tonks stood to go. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly. You as well, Gen."

"Please don't leave on my account," Dumbledore said. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

Genevieve nodded. Fudge had been sacked. Scrimgeour was now Minister.

"No, no, I need to get going," Tonks insisted. " 'Night — "

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?"

"No, really, Molly . . . thanks anyway . . . Good night, everyone."

Tonks rushed out into the yard and Disapparated. Genevieve stood.

"I'd better be leaving too. I've somewhere to be later today."

"Very well, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You're welcome at dinner too."

"I'll try to come, Molly," Genevieve promised.

Dumbledore stopped her on the way out.

"Genevieve," he said. "I'd almost forgotten. Sirius's will was discovered a week ago. A letter to you was found with it."

He handed her an envelope, on which was scrawled, "To Genevieve Snow, in the case of my death."

"Thank you," she said.

"I trust I will see you at Hogwarts on the first?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes, Professor. I'll be Apparating to Hogsmeade shortly before the students arrive."

"Good, good. I look forward to it."

Genevieve walked out and Apparated home.

Once in her room, she muttered, _"Lumos!"_ and opened the letter.

 _Dear Genevieve,_

 _If you are reading this, it means that I have died before I could properly explain the connection between us._

 _Your mother was a Black. Her given name was Alya Maia Black. She hated it. I don't remember precisely how we are related, as she was disowned very early on, after she had left for Hogwarts and been sorted into Ravenclaw, of all Houses. She had come home from school and confronted her parents about their pure-blood prejudices, something she had never believed in. It was, apparently, an intense enough argument to get her blasted off the family tapestry and we were forbidden from mentioning her._

 _She was several years older than I was. She had, by the time I arrived at Hogwarts, completely reinvented herself. Or maybe that's who she was all along. Her friends and teachers called her Allie. She lived with a friend when she was not at Hogwarts. She seemed truly happy._

 _And she was always friendly to me, probably as I was another outcast of the family. I cannot count the times Allie saved James and I from expulsion, even though she had planned some of our more elaborate schemes. She had this kind of personal magnetism, it was like everyone was drawn to her. By sixth year, she was dating the Muggle-born Noah Snow, and the rest was history._

 _After I ran away from home myself, she invited me over to their house quite a lot. When you were born, Allie named me godfather, a role I'm ashamed to say I never truly fulfilled. But I must say this. Your mother never wanted you to know she was related to the Blacks. While some might consider it the height of honor, she thought oppositely. I was to be a close family friend, an example that one was not always what their roots were. She didn't want to be it._

 _When I met you again, I did not recognize you at first. You see, your physical resemblance to her is not great, a fact she was overjoyed about. She didn't want you to be cursed with the Black family features, like she had been. But you share very similar personalities._

 _Allie was always smarter than anyone around, and she was fiercely loyal to those important to her. I had my suspicions that first night, when I escaped, especially when I found out your name was Genevieve. It was confirmed when you came to live at headquarters, and I saw your father again. We agreed that Allie would have wanted to wait until you were at least out of school to tell you about your past, and so I watched as you continued to be your mother alive again. It was hard for me to see you so grown up, and to know that I didn't have a hand in it._

 _I am sorry I'm not there to see you through life, but I wish you only the best, and I hope you don't let this discovery change who you are, because you are already so much better a person than almost anyone else in the family. Lupin told me that you knew about the Marauder's Map, so I'll close with this:_

 _Mischief managed,_

 _Sirius_

•~0~•

"Genevieve!" Charlie exclaimed as soon as she had appeared, holding a chipped cup.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "Didn't want to risk long-distance Apparation. A Portkey seemed like the best way, my dad pulled some strings to authorize it for me."

He hugged her tightly.

"I've missed you," he breathed.

She hugged him back.

"I've missed you too."

And she told him about the past year, about her mother and Sirius, about Umbridge and the D.A., and her and Hogwarts. When she was done, he hugged her again.

"Blimey," he said. "Your life could be a book."

Genevieve laughed. Charlie got to his feet.

"Do you want to see the sanctuary?"

Genevieve nodded. As he guided her around the sanctuary, she watched the dragons with awe. The Hungarian Horntail was just as stunning as she remembered. When they arrived back at Charlie's, they simply sat and talked and joked and laughed the day away. Genevieve was reluctant to leave.

"I'll see you again," he assured her. "At the very least, I'll see you next year for Bill's wedding. What's Fleur Delacour like, anyway? I've only ever seen her get her skirt lit on fire."

"Well," Genevieve thought. "I don't really know her that well, but, being nice, I'll say she's very vocal about her opinion, and, as you know, she's beautiful. I wouldn't doubt if she's part-Veela."

Charlie nodded. "You're better-looking," he said.

Genevieve laughed. "Not a chance."

"Okay, maybe not," he joked. He hugged her again.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She grabbed the chipped teacup and vanished.

•~0~•

 **A/N: I promise I will update; I'm working on the chapter now. I'm just going through a bit of a rough patch in my personal life and it's taking a lot of my time and energy at the moment. Sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Beauty in Chaos

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Bedlam flourished around her. Kids swarmed through, beholding the merchandise with a mixture of glee and awe. Colorful boxes adorned shelves. Genevieve could hardly move in the chaos.

The twins walked by without seeing her, carrying clipboards and making notes.

"Looks as though we'll have to restock on Nosebleed Nougats," noted George. "Blimey, they're popular."

"Of course they are," Genevieve said. "They were _my_ idea, after all."

They looked up simultaneously. "Genevieve!" Fred shouted with relief, rushing over to her. Genevieve raised an eyebrow. She knew better than to take their excitement without a reasonable level of suspicion, especially as she'd dropped in just the week before. They quickly adopted pleading looks.

"What have you got for me to do today?" she asked with mock exasperation.

"We just need you to watch over the Pygmy Puffs," begged George. "We've had people trying to buy them left, right, and center. It's been a bit of a nightmare, honestly."

Genevieve glared at them for a moment, then sighed. "Fine," she relented.

Fred beamed. "We've washed your robes for you," he said, motioning to her freshly laundered magenta staff robes.

Genevieve stayed rooted to her spot. "And what's my pay?"

"Free products of your choice and," Fred thought for a moment, "two Sickles an hour."

 _"Two Sickles?"_ she said, outraged.

"What we meant," George intervened, "is four Sickles, free products, _and_ a Pygmy Puff."

Genevieve shook her head. "No use. Snowflake just despises them. Oh well," she pulled on her robes, "you owe me."

"That we do," Fred said cheerfully. "Ah, look who's come in."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were fighting their way around the shop. Genevieve glanced over; a few kids were fighting over a particularly vibrant and frenzied Pygmy Puff.

"Er — I'll talk to them later," Genevieve said, hurrying away to resolve the situation as George left to take care of something else.

After scolding the lot of them and helping them each choose different Puffs, along with convincing several others of the benefits of owning one, Genevieve noticed Fred leading Hermione, Harry, and Ginny over to her area. She walked around to greet them. George had also joined.

"Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher," Fred was telling Ginny. "Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don't change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?"

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "Are you or are you not jealous Ginny here _has_ managed to go out with someone and you're still all by your lonesome?"

"I am not!" Fred said defensively. "Girls fall over themselves for me!"

"Of course, my mistake," Genevieve and Ginny shared smirks.

"Yes, I am," Ginny informed him. "And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?"

Ginny pointed to the Pygmy Puffs, which started going crazy at the sudden attention.

"They're Pygmy Puffs," Genevieve explained. "Very cute and cuddly miniature puffskeins. Getting bought by the minute, they are. Can't breed them fast enough. They — "

"So what about Michael Corner?" George cut in.

Ginny knelt by the cage and put a finger through the bars. The Pygmy Puffs instantly surrounded it.

"I dumped him, he was a bad loser," Ginny said, unconcerned. "They're really cute!"

"I know — "

Fred had interrupted Genevieve this time.

"They're fairly cuddly, yes. But you're moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?"

Ginny stood up and turned to face them, hands on her hips and looking uncannily like Mrs. Weasley. Genevieve hid a grin behind her hand as Fred let a shadow of uneasiness that those who didn't know him well wouldn't catch.

"It's none of your business. And I'll thank _you_ ," Ginny rounded on Ron, who had just reappeared with armfuls of stock, "not to tell tales about me to these two!"

Fred looked at Ron. "That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut. Cough up."

"I'm your brother!" he protested.

"Double it," Genevieve suggested.

"No!" Ron said in horror.

"All right," Fred conceded. "But that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I'll knock off the Knut."

"But I haven't got three Galleons, nine Sickles!"

"You'd better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves."

Ron cursed and made a rather rude hand gesture. Mrs. Weasley, always having perfect timing, witnessed it.

"If I see you do that again I'll jinx your fingers together," she warned.

"Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?" Ginny asked.

"A what?"

"Look, they're so sweet . . ."

Genevieve and Ginny showed her the Pygmy Puffs, with Genevieve explaining the benefits of having one and the companionship it provided. She seemed to be convinced, when —

"Where's Ron, Harry, and Hermione?"

The trio was nowhere in sight. Genevieve and the others, including Hagrid, looked everywhere, but they couldn't be found. Mrs. Weasley was getting really worried when they suddenly resurfaced, claiming they had been in the back room the entire time.

"You couldn't've!" Genevieve said. "I've just checked!"

"Well, you can't've checked properly, we were in there all along," Harry claimed.

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, but he shot her a dangerous look, so she let it go.

"All right, I must have. Well, I've got to go anyway. Bye, Molly, Ginny . . ."

After bidding farewell to all of the Weasleys and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid, Genevieve Apparated home.

•~0~•

"So Slughorn's teaching again, is he?" Genevieve's father asked.

When Genevieve nodded, he went on. "Ah well, your mother and I had him when we were at Hogwarts. He's a decent bloke, I suppose, as far as Slytherins tend to go. Your mother never liked him, though."

"Why?" Genevieve asked, her head snapping up. This was one of the first times her father had been able to talk about her since the Department of Mysteries.

"Dunno, really. He liked her, I know that much. Heard about her ambition to be an Auror and tried to 'help' her, get her to join his Slug Club, but she seemed to think that'd be taking the easy way out. She wanted to get there on her own, and she did."

"I can't imagine he liked that terribly much."

"No, he didn't," her father sighed, "but he kept trying. Might've known about her being a — a — "

"A Black?" Genevieve supplied.

He nodded tensely. "Suppose he thought of her as the one that got away, him being the Head of Slytherin and she in Ravenclaw, after all."

"What d'you mean?"

"He had a certain affinity for . . . collecting, I reckon you could call it, yes . . . collecting students he thought had potential to be great. He'd handpick them, and use his influences at the Ministry and other places to secure them benefits."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I suppose she felt it unfair that he deemed certain students worthy of his attention and others not."

"I suppose she did," Genevieve said, almost coolly.

"Look," her father grasped her hands. "I'm _sorry_ , okay? I'm sorry I could've told you sooner, and I didn't. I'm sorry I've tried to tell you about her, and I can't. I just can't. I'm _sorry_."

Genevieve looked at him. "That's what you think I'm upset about? It's not that. I _understand_ that. What I don't understand is why you've just completely shut yourself off since the Department of Mysteries. It's like you're just this empty shell."

Genevieve didn't even know she was upset, but thoughts and feelings and tears kept spilling out.

"I get that it's hard to talk about someone you loved so much, and now they're gone. I _get_ that. I get that you thought she would've wanted to wait to tell me. But you _need_ to talk about it. If you keep acting like this, you're going to keep hurting yourself, and I don't want that for you. I'm not upset for my sake, okay? I'm upset for _yours_."

Her father was stunned. After a long while, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry. I can't."

Genevieve stood up.

"Then I don't think we have anything to talk about," she said stiffly.

"Gen — "

She checked her watch.

"It's nearly time for me to go. I'm — er — " Genevieve wiped an eye. "I've got to Apparate there. Then you won't have to worry about talking to anyone about it."

"Gen — "

"Goodbye."

And without a moment's thought, Genevieve seized her trunk and marched out the door. She didn't look back. A few yards away, she vanished.


	3. Chapter 3: A Different Perspective

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall.

"Genevieve, you're just in time, Hagrid's making his way across the lake now — what has happened?"

She had just noticed Genevieve's tear-stained eyes. She led her inside and conjured chairs.

"It's — just — my father . . ."

Professor McGonagall listened intently as Genevieve told her about what had just happened.

"You were very brave, Genevieve," McGonagall said gently. "Standing up to your father like that. He'll come around eventually, I know he will. Noah Snow was never one for avoiding reason."

"Thanks, Professor."

"Genevieve, we are colleagues now. Please, call me Minerva."

"Er — thank you, er — Minerva."

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly. Before Genevieve even had time to process the fact that she was calling her teacher by her first name, someone rapped three times on the door. They both stood up.

McGonagall opened the door. Hagrid and the newest first years looked nervously back at them.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall, Miss Snow," Hagrid winked at her. Genevieve smiled weakly.

"Thank you, Hagrid. We will take them from here."

They led the first years into a chamber off the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall addressed them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will by something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

Professor McGonagall nodded to Genevieve, who opened her mouth to speak. She remembered Professor McGonagall's words like it was yesterday.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I sincerely hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House you shall soon belong to."

McGonagall took over again.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting," she added.

The first years fidgeted.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," McGonagall said. "Please wait quietly. Miss Snow will watch over you in the meantime."

She swept from the chamber. The first years looked absolutely terrified.

"Relax," Genevieve told them. "It's all right. You've nothing to fear. You'll be Sorted into whichever House fits you best."

A few ghosts wandered in, absolutely horrifying the new students. Genevieve fought back a laugh.

"Hello, Nick," she greeted.

The Gryffindor House ghost smiled back at her.

"Hello, Miss Snow. The Sorting is about to start, I suppose?"

"Yes, it is. Although I do believe you have shocked the first years a bit."

He chuckled.

"Ah yes, that does happen. Well, we'll be off."

The ghosts drifted through the wall as Professor McGonagall reentered.

"The Sorting Ceremony's about to start," she announced. "Now, form a line and follow me."

They followed McGonagall into the Great Hall, with Genevieve bringing up the rear. When everyone had filed in, she took a seat at the staff table. Many of the teachers smiled at her, though Professor Trelawney merely sniffed and Snape gave her a calculating look. She noticed Hagrid hadn't yet arrived.

The Hat sang its annual song, once again urging them to unite in the face of their enemies, and the students were Sorted into their respective Houses. Dumbledore gave a short speech, advising them to dig in, though Genevieve noticed, to a certain amount of worry, that his right hand was shriveled.

"Hello, Genevieve!" squeaked Flitwick. "I'm excited to have you join us, you were always a brilliant student!"

"Thanks, Professor."

"Call me Filius!"

"Hard-worker, you were," Professor Sprout said heartily. "What you didn't master, you worked until you did. And it's Pomona, Genevieve," she added to avoid further awkward exchange.

"Horace Slughorn," an old potbellied man introduced himself. "Might I ask your surname?"

"Snow," Genevieve said. "Genevieve Snow."

His face flickered with recognition. "You are, I trust, Noah Snow's daughter. And your mother was Alya Black."

Genevieve forced a smile. "Yes. And she preferred to be called Allie, so if you don't mind, I'd like to refer to her as that."

"Of course, of course," Slughorn said. "I suppose you inherited your mother's talent at Potions?"

He looked at Snape, whom Genevieve knew was teaching DADA this year. She pitied his students. He had always angled for that job.

"It must be acknowledged that Snow has shown a certain knack for the subject, yes," Snape drawled.

He looked very bored. Suddenly, a wolf Patronus streaked to the table. It was from Tonks. She had found Harry and was escorting him to the castle now. Snape left to retrieve him, but Genevieve could've sworn she saw his lip curl.

Shortly after, Hagrid joined the table, sitting beside Professor McGonagall. Genevieve, who was on the other side of her, smiled at him.

"Having a chat with our little friend?"

He beamed at her in reply. Snape returned and Harry joined the Gryffindor table, though he was covered in blood, which Hermione wasted no time siphoning off. Genevieve grinned at him, while Hagrid nearly shook the table, waving enthusiastically, much to McGonagall's dismay.

Dumbledore stood again.

"The very best of evenings to you!"

The Hall broke into worried whispers about his hand, which the students had only just noticed. Dumbledore brushed it off.

"Nothing to worry about. Now . . . to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you . . ."

He continued with his routine sayings.

". . . and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Genevieve hid a smirk. Like Filch ever had been able to stop the Weasley twins.

"We are pleased to welcome two new members of staff this year. Miss Snow" — Genevieve stood and waved at the crowd of students, the Gryffindors applauding wildly, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs clapping politely, and the Slytherins glaring with their arms stubbornly crossed — "is going to assist Professor McGonagall in teaching this year. I hope you will all treat her well."

She sat down. Dumbledore went on.

"Professor Slughorn" — Slughorn stood as well — "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

His words were repeated in dawning horror by the students.

"Potions?"

 _"Potions?"_

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore continued, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. Genevieve shot him a warning look. Students turned to face him.

Snape, in response to the loud applause coming from the Slytherin table, lazily raised a hand.

The Great Hall broke into loud conversations. The students had forgotten Dumbledore was there. He cleared his throat.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

He paused for a moment, simply analyzing the students.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lesson tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

•~0~•

The next morning, Genevieve and McGonagall were going around after breakfast, clearing sixth years for their N.E.W.T. subjects.

"All right, Hermione," Genevieve said, checking her papers, "you're clear to continue with all of your requested subjects, which are Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, but are you sure you want to? You're going to be very busy with N.E.W.T. work; you'll find yourself spending your free time studying, and this is a lot to take."

"I'm sure," Hermione said with an air of confidence.

Genevieve tapped her wand to a schedule. It filled with the details of her classes. She handed it to her.

"Then here. You've got Ancient Runes first."

She left without another word. Genevieve looked down at her notes.

"Dean Thomas?"

One week later, Genevieve had gotten somewhat used to the attention she received when helping McGonagall with lectures and had even docked Malfoy twenty points. He had been gleefully reenacting the breaking of Harry's nose, which Hermione had informed her about, much to the delight of his fellow Slytherins.

"I think that'll be ten points from Slytherin, Malfoy, for distracting your fellow students. Oh, and ten for openly admitting to harm against another student."

He had glared at her for a moment, but otherwise seemed unbothered by the loss of House points, muttering under his breath that he had far more important things to worry about.

"Well, that's fascinating, it is," Genevieve said coolly. "But unless you can demonstrate your mastery of nonverbal spells, I'm not interested."

Hagrid, meanwhile, was quite upset about the fact that the vast majority of the sixth years, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had not elected to take Care of Magical Creatures. Genevieve often went down to his hut to try to convince him to show up to make, to no avail. It certainly didn't help that Aragog was sick.

"Aragog?" Genevieve had asked. "The giant acromantula?"

"Tha's the one," Hagrid had sniffed. "Bin together since me time at Hogwarts. I think he's dyin' . . ."

Genevieve hadn't known what to say. She rifled through her bag for a moment, then found it. She pulled out a book.

"I've found these have always helped me when life got to be too much. They're never easy, but they take a lot of time and help clear your mind," she said, setting down the book. "Crossword?"


	4. Chapter 4: A Bell Unrung

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

 **Sorry I haven't updated in a bit. Life has been frantic and, frankly, slightly disheartening. Enjoy.**

•~0~•

"Malfoy!" Genevieve called as the boy made to slink out of the classroom. She could practically hear his eyes roll as he turned around.

"Yes?"

"You have now failed to complete your homework twice this year."

"Fine, I'll get to it."

He once again tried to leave.

"No, that's not all, I'm afraid. Because of your actions, you will spend tomorrow's Hogsmeade visit with Professor McGonagall and I. In detention."

"All right!" he snapped.

Genevieve looked sharply at him.

"I'll be there." And with that, he stalked out of the classroom.

Genevieve sighed and packed up. Before she knew it, lunch had come. It was easy to go unnoticed at the staff table, what with Slughorn bragging unceasingly about his former students, and, more recently, Harry's potion-making abilities to anyone who bothered to listen, though Genevieve doubted Snape was one of them.

She knew where this sudden talent had come from, and it wasn't from his mother, as Slughorn believed. Hermione had, rather bossily, pulled her aside during a Transfiguration class and demanded her opinion on this "Half-Blood Prince", who had scrawled alternate instructions in the margins of a Potions textbook Harry had borrowed.

"It's not his work, so why should he get the credit for it?" Hermione had huffed.

"Hermione," Genevieve had said patiently, "unless Professor Slughorn's teachings are unlike any Potions master of which I have ever heard, you follow a set of instructions as well. These discoveries weren't your work, but you receive credit for how well you follow them. Harry's simply doing the same with different instructions. I see nothing wrong with it, except perhaps he might share this 'Prince's' work, as it seems to be more accurate than the original author's."

Harry had given her a grateful grin while Hermione had glowered.

It was true that Genevieve felt slightly out of place with the staff, whom had all worked together for several years and were much older than her, but Professor McGonagall was very sympathetic to her situation and tried to include her as much as possible, while Genevieve had taken to spending a bit more time with Myrtle, who was delighted by the attention, though more distracted than usual. Genevieve simply chalked it up to the fact that existing in endless time must lead to being somewhat unfocused.

Hagrid, on the other hand, was much returned to his normal self, now that the trio had made up with him, though Aragog was still worrying him.

Dumbledore was often gone on long trips, which Genevieve hadn't remembered happening in any other year, but, she supposed, now that Voldemort was out in the open, there was quite a lot to do.

Genevieve had been looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip, as it, for one, was an opportunity away from the castle grounds, and also was a chance for Genevieve to Apparate to Diagon Alley and visit the twins. However, thanks to Malfoy, she would now miss it.

"Genevieve," Professor McGonagall said suddenly. "What are you planning to do tomorrow, during the Hogsmeade trip?"

"Er," Genevieve said, confused, "I'll be supervising detention with you, Minerva."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows arched. "I do believe I can handle Mr. Malfoy. Go, take a break from the castle for a bit."

"Thank you," Genevieve said, smiling.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "And what are your plans?"

"I was hoping to Apparate to Diagon Alley to visit the Weasley twins."

McGonagall smiled gently. "Yes, I quite think that will be good use of your free time, more so if you would be ever so kind as to ask them not to sell their Spell-Checking Quills to our less attentive students. Once the charm wears off, I often have to endure exponentially more severe spelling errors."

The other teachers nodded vigorously.

Genevieve grinned. "I will."

•~0~•

She entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to find the two in the backroom, covering stock. Fred looked over first.

"Hey, Georgie! It's the young Minnie!"

"Would you look at that?" George walked over and gave her a hug. "She even looks like McGonagall!"

Genevieve laughed. She reached a hand back and undid her bun. Her hair fell down just past her shoulders in loose waves.

"Hm — well, not so much anymore," noted Fred. He waved his hand across the shop. "It's not so full now that term's started, but the Owl Order Service is going crazy. Everybody wants a Love Potion."

"You do realize that your products are banned from Hogwarts, and you're talking to a member of its staff?" Genevieve asked, amused.

"And how are you going to stop us?" Fred sniggered.

Genevieve shrugged. "Simple. I'm not. It'll be fun seeing Filch try and figure out where all of this is coming from. Just be careful about who you're selling to. McGonagall's getting a headache from all the misspelled words created by these."

She picked up a Spell-Checking Quill.

"Charm wears off fairly quickly," she explained.

"And we're working on that," George promised.

"Also," Genevieve sat on a nearby desk. Fred feigned offense. "Who do you think all these girls are trying to use the Love Potions on?"

"Harry," George slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Exactly," Genevieve nodded.

"Ah well," said Fred, "it's a large bit of our income. The bloke will just have to be careful."

"And the only reason you have a store at all is because of him," Genevieve pointed out.

"All right, all right," George assured her. "We'll be careful."

"Help with inventory?" Fred asked pleadingly.

Genevieve shook her head. "Sure."

Genevieve worked for a while before checking the nearest window. "The weather's really getting worse. I ought to go."

After saying goodbye — and pulling her hair back into a bun — she Apparated to the High Street.

"Hi, Genevieve," Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved.

But her attention wasn't on them. It was on the two bickering girls in the front of them.

"Is that Katie and Leanne?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "and they're getting so loud, I've got a headache."

"That's odd," Genevieve said, furrowing her brow. "It's not like Katie at all to argue."

"It's about that package Katie has," Hermione said, pointing to it.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Katie yelled.

It was getting hard to see, with the heavy snow. They turned a corner. Suddenly, Leanne tried to take the package from Katie, who yanked it back.

The result was immediate. The package dropped to the ground, while Katie did exactly the opposite, rising into the air, arms outstretched, eyes shut, and face devoid of emotion. Genevieve started running, while everyone else stood frozen. Something was very wrong.

Just before Genevieve reached her, Katie let out a scream so terrible Genevieve stopped dead. She kept screaming, and Leanne screamed as well. The others were pulling her to the ground, but Genevieve could only look into Katie's face, screaming and screaming without any awareness of the world around her.

She fell back to the ground, kicking and still, ever more terribly, screaming. The others struggled to hold her in place, while Genevieve tried to smooth back her hair.

"Stay there!" Harry told them. "I'm going for help!"

Soon, he returned with Hagrid, who scooped her up and carried her off. Genevieve sat on the snow, numb. She put her head in her hands. She heard Hermione asking Leanne about the package, but how could she focus when one of her greatest friends was in danger?

No. No, she had to. She had to focus. This was Katie. If Katie died . . . No, she couldn't think about that, she had to help her. She had to find a way to help her.

Genevieve rejoined the group. Harry was examining the torn package, which contained a necklace.

"I've seen that before. It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked at the sobbing Leanne. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well," she said shakily, "that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it . . . Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

She dissolved once more into tears.

"Do you know who gave it to her?" Genevieve asked urgently.

"No . . . she wouldn't tell me . . . and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and . . . and then I tried to grab it from her and — and — "

"Hey, hey," Genevieve said, "look at me."

Leanne's eyes bore into her.

"I know it's hard, okay? And I know you're scared, and you don't know what's going to happen to Katie, but you need to stay strong for her, okay?"

Leanne gave a shaky nod.

"We'd better get up to school," Hermione said, wrapping an arm around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on . . ."

Harry wrapped the necklace in his scarf.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he explained.

As they walked up to the castle, Harry began spewing theories. One look from Hermione and Ron told Genevieve that this was a common topic.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. _This_ is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"I — I dunno, Harry," Ron said tentatively. "Loads of people go to Borgin and Burkes . . . and didn't that girl say Katie got it in the girls' bathroom?"

"She said she came back from the bathroom with it," Harry argued, "she didn't necessarily get it from the bathroom itself — "

"McGonagall!" Ron said suddenly.

"Genevieve, I trust you'll want to be with Katie?"

"Yes," said Genevieve at once.

"She's in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is tending to her."

Genevieve simply nodded before hurrying away.

In the hospital wing, she smoothed back Katie's hair while Madam Pomfrey fretted over her. Whatever she has given Katie seemed to have calmed her, though she still seemed oblivious to the world and moved jerkily.

"She's lucky, that one," Madam Pomfrey said grimly. "If she had touched any more of it, she'd be dead."

Genevieve simply gulped in reply.

"She's going to St. Mungo's tomorrow. There's not much more I can do for her here."

Genevieve hadn't known what to say.


	5. Chapter 5: Karma’s Finest Moment

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve was fine. She visited Katie as often as she could, and she was making real improvement as well, and Genevieve was dealing with it _fine._ She wasn't worried or upset. Not at all.

Okay, so she did receive a few raised eyebrows from McGonagall for snapping rather harshly at a few inattentive Slytherins, but that could happen anytime. It had nothing to do with the fact that Katie was stuck in St. Mungo's indefinitely.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the first Quidditch match of the season was fast approaching, and Katie wouldn't get to play. It had nothing to do with the fact that _Zacharias Smith,_ of all people, was going to be commentating, or the fact that the Christmas holidays were also drawing closer, and Genevieve would have to face her father once again. It had nothing to do with anything.

At the game, Genevieve sat with Professor McGonagall, overseeing Zacharias Smith in his new role. Genevieve was already resisting the particularly strong urge to punch the bloke, after some of the comments he had already made.

The match began.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised the see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help . . ."

Genevieve started, but Professor McGonagall kept her in place. Her mouth was in a thin line, though, and Genevieve knew McGonagall approved of his words no more than she did.

"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaming down the pitch and —"

There was a pause as Gryffindors hoped against hope that Ron could block the Quaffle.

"— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose . . ."

Genevieve shook her head. Smith had turned an impressive save into a stroke of luck.

Half an hour later, the score stood sixty to zero, Gryffindor in the lead. The Weasleys were the stars of the team today, and even Smith had been forced to abandon his attempt to criticize their playing, trying to insult the Beaters instead.

"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater, they've generally got a bit more muscle — "

"Bit of advice, Smith," Genevieve said conversationally, not taking her eyes off the field, where Coote had just hit a Bludger at Harper, the Slytherin Seeker. Malfoy had claimed to be sick. "Be careful what you say about someone who's _that_ skilled with a heavy bat."

Gryffindor was playing flawlessly. The team worked as one unit, as though they could read each other's thoughts. The Chasers passed the Quaffle between them with ease, and Ron, whose playing usually suffered from confidence issues, was saving goals almost effortlessly, even taking time to conduct the lot of cheerful Gryffindors, who were enthusiastically singing the ever-popular "Weasley Is Our King."

Finally, Smith shouted with sickening glee, "And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch! Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!"

The two raced furiously, Harry speeding after Harper. Just before Harper grabbed the Snitch, Harry said something quietly that only they could hear, but it distracted Harper enough for him to miss the Snitch, allowing Harry to snatch it.

Genevieve stood and cheered with the rest of the Gryffindors. Then, with sudden alarm, she said quietly to McGonagall, "Minerva, I think it would do us well to move. _Now._ "

McGonagall's eyes widened, and they hurried out of the way just before Ginny collided with the commentator's podium and, therefore, Smith. Genevieve fought back a laugh, though the rest of the crowd was roaring.

"Miss Weasley!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."

Genevieve quickly turned her laugh into a cough.

•~0~•

Genevieve crawled through the portrait hole, intending to tell the celebrating Gryffindors to keep the noise down a bit, and the first thing she saw was Ron and Lavender Brown snogging.

Horrified, and all reprimands forgotten, she quickly retreated, stumbling instead into the nearest unlocked classroom. Hermione occupied the teacher's desk, a swarm of yellow birds circling her head.

"Nice work, Miss Granger," she said in her best imitation of Professor McGonagall.

Hermione looked up, startled. Her eyes were shining.

"Oh, hello, Genevieve," she said dully. "Just . . . practicing."

"Yes, I can see that," Genevieve said, motioning to the birds, "it does seem as though you've mastered this particular spell."

"Yes, well, it can never hurt to practice."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with Ron's — er — display," Genevieve shuddered. "It was _quite_ revolting."

"Ron does a lot of revolting things, none of which I have any interest in," Hermione sniffed.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that," Genevieve said loftily, "but just so you know, I think he's being a total prat."

She stood up and prepared to leave. Just as she was about to close the door, though, she said, "If Ron were so foolish as to stumble in, especially accompanied by his little leech, and if anyone asked you, I never said this, but I don't believe _Oppugno_ would go amiss."

•~0~•

It was definitely one of the more amusing lessons. To watch, of course. The sixth years were beginning human Transfiguration, and the results were . . . interesting, to say the least.

Their task was simple: change the color of your eyebrows, in front of a mirror, no less.

Ron's first attempt, which Hermione gave a derisive snort when she saw, ended in him having a rather impressive handlebar mustache. Ron took revenge by exaggeratedly imitating Hermione's enthusiastic hand raising that occurred whenever Professor McGonagall asked a question, a gesture that was not missed by Genevieve.

As soon as class was over, she dashed out, Harry just behind her. Ron and Lavender were about to make their exit, though admittedly hands were in places they shouldn't be.

"Weasley," Genevieve called out, her voice so harsh she shocked herself.

Ron jerked back. "Yeah?"

She walked briskly over to him and said quietly but firmly, "That entire display you just pulled was exceedingly inappropriate and inconsiderate, and I won't tolerate it again."

He looked taken aback by her words.

"Er — right, I apologize."

She looked him dead in the eyes. "You're apologizing to the wrong person."

Ron turned away and strode out of the room, but she saw a defiant gleam in his eye before he did.

Genevieve sighed. To live a life free of drama.

•~0~•

"Hi, Genevieve," her father said, a bit awkwardly.

Genevieve closed her eyes for a moment. "Hi."

But when she opened them again, she noticed something. The house wasn't in the state of disarray it had adopted the summer before she left. Instead, it was newly cleaned, and plainly decorated for Christmas. Her father's scraggly haircut was freshly cut, and he had shaven too. The bags under his eyes didn't seem quite so dark, though still there.

She sat in the nearest armchair.

"I see you've been busy."

"Yes," he replied nervously. "I took some time off from work. I've cleaned the house some . . . and I've been getting help."

"Help?"

"A Muggle psychologist. Of course, I can't tell her everything, but I've told her that your mother died a violent death a while back, and about her background. I changed the pure-blood mania to racism, though. Thought it'd be best." He gave a lopsided smile. Then he sobered. "And I told her how I've been dealing with it."

He held up a small stack of papers.

"I've been diagnosed with depression. But she's really been helping me, and you were right, it helped to talk about it."

He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Parents are supposed to have their lives together. Children shouldn't have to parent their parents. When you did it to me, I felt like I'd been stripped of my dignity. And when you confronted me with my own behavior, I didn't want to accept it. I was wrong. I'm so sorry, Genevieve."

Genevieve simply gave a stiff nod. He continued, his eyes beginning to leak.

"I understand if you need time to deal with this yourself. The psychologist said you might. I understand if you want nothing to do with me — "

He was cut off. Genevieve had hugged him.

"So," she said, wiping her own eyes, "we've received an invitation to join the Weasleys for Christmas, and I don't fancy facing the motherly wrath of Molly Weasley should we decline."

Her father cracked a smile, collapsing into a nearby chair.

"And I don't think we should be alone this Christmas," she added quietly.

•~0~•

 **A/N: Bittersweet moment here. Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. J.K. Rowling has now apologized for Dobby's death. I am waiting for (not necessarily in this order): Tonks, Hedwig (YES, Hedwig), Sirius, and more. There's always more . . .**


	6. Chapter 6: Mashed Parsnip

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

 **Reviews are always welcome.**

•~0~•

Genevieve walked into Ginny's room, which she was staying in, along with Fleur, and promptly threw up in her mouth. She tried to quietly exit the room, but she had already been noticed.

Bill and Fleur broke apart. Bill gave an embarrassed grin, while Fleur said, slightly irritated, "Do you need sometheeng, Geeneveeve?"

"I was just coming to get my book," Genevieve said, grabbing her novel, "but would it kill you to put a sock on the door? Something?"

"Zat would be — " started Fleur, a disgusted look on her face.

"We'll be more careful next time," Bill promised. "It's just, with Mum . . ."

"Yeah, I understand." Genevieve shrugged. "I'm just glad it's not Ron this time," she added, shuddering at the memory.

"You've seen Ron snogging someone?" Bill asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't call it 'snogging' so much as 'eating someone's face,' " Genevieve explained.

Fleur scoffed and Bill winced apologetically.

Later that day, Genevieve was helping the twins, Harry, and Ron pull up vegetables for Christmas dinner when a gnome, with its bald and ugly head and its hairy feet, bit Fred on the ankle.

 _"Stupefy!"_ Genevieve shouted. It froze, its jaw still attached to Fred. She pried it off.

"What to do with you . . ." Fred contemplated as the gnome glared at the lot of them. "Aha!"

With a flick of his wand, the gnome had been painted gold. George and Genevieve caught on quickly. Genevieve conjured a miniature tutu, deliberately making it too small, but, with tremendous effort, they managed to force the gnome into it. George, on the other hand, added his own touch: small wings decorated its back.

They stood back and examined their masterpiece. Harry and Ron gave approving smirks.

"I reckon we've found our new Christmas tree angel," George announced cheerfully.

"The ugliest one to date," sniggered Genevieve, "but I suppose it'll do."

They reentered the house. Genevieve's jaw dropped as she looked around the living room.

"Um, Ginny," she said tentatively, "you don't think you've gone a bit overboard with the decorating?"

Ginny scowled playfully in response.

•~0~•

"It's a bloody war with those two," Genevieve said, pulling earplugs out of her bag. She passed some to Fred, George, and Ginny, which they accepted graciously.

Mrs. Weasley was trying to listen to Celestina Warbeck on the wireless, but Fleur, who seemed to find Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer boring, kept attempting to talk over her, while Mrs. Weasley viciously and repeatedly upped the volume in retaliation.

Fred mouthed, "Exploding Snap?"

They nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, Genevieve saw Harry talking to Mr. Weasley and Lupin, all of them looking quite serious.

At long last, a very high note sounded from the wireless, so loud that it broke through the earplugs. It was followed by Mrs. Weasley's enthusiastic clapping, and, hoping it was over, the four cautiously removed the earplugs.

"Eez eet over?" Fleur nearly yelled. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible — "

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" Mr. Weasley interrupted quickly, standing up. "Who wants eggnog?"

"She's something, all right," Genevieve marveled. "Insulting your mum's music in her own home."

Ginny snorted. "Trust me, if Phlegm wasn't _Bill's_ fiancée, I'd've jinxed her a dozen different ways by now."

"Don't tempt me," Genevieve said. "I'd love to see her own bogeys attacking her. Thanks."

Mr. Weasley had just handed her a glass of eggnog.

"Sometimes I do wonder, though," Genevieve said thoughtfully, " _what_ Bill sees in her."

"The part-veela, that's what," snickered Fred. They laughed.

At that moment, Fleur demonstrated what kind of person she was by mockingly singing Celestina's "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." One glance to Mrs. Weasley's furious-but-trying-to-contain-herself-for-the-sake-of-her-oldest-son's expression told them all it was time for bed.

Genevieve woke to Fleur huffing and muttering in French, though she was sure she heard something about "family sweater" in the mumbling. She sat up and opened the parcels that had carefully been laid beside her bed.

The first was, of course, _her_ Weasley jumper, a brilliant ocean blue. She slipped it on. Charlie had sent her a small model of a Chinese Fireball, along with a short letter detailing what was happening with the dragons at the sanctuary. Fred and George had given her a prototype of the new, longer-lasting Spell-Check Quill, along with a few classic Canary Creams.

Her father had given Genevieve her mother's wedding ring, on a chain, to wear around her neck until the day came that she might use it. It was a plain silver band, no embellishments whatsoever. It also wasn't unscathed. But Genevieve appreciated every chip and scratch, because it represented her mother's bravery in fighting for what was right, and it was imperfect, just like she embraced being.

In return, she sent Charlie one of the twins' Shield Hats and some Decoy Detonators, complete with a letter explaining them and good wishes. To the twins, she gave some Honeydukes chocolate and the promise of helping them over the coming summer, and to her father, she gave back the photo album he had given her in sixth year, which contained pictures of her mother.

"I think you need this more than I do at the moment," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Thank you for the jumper, Molly," Genevieve said, hugging Mrs. Weasley. "It's always made me feel a part of the family."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming, "you're as good as."

At lunch, everyone wore their new jumpers, though Fleur, noticeably, didn't have one. Fred and George had given their mother a new witch's hat and an ornate golden necklace, which she sported proudly.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she gushed.

"Well," George explained, "we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we're washing our own socks. Parsnips, Remus?" he offered.

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," Ginny said pleasantly, picking it out.

" 'Ow 'orrible," Fleur shuddered at the thought.

"Yes, isn't it?" Ron said serenely, undoubtedly trying to impress her with his maturity. "Gravy, Fleur?"

He knocked over and sent the gravy boat flying by mistake. Genevieve hid her laugh in a cough, while Bill, with a wave of his wand, kept the gravy from splattering all over its target and returned it to the boat.

"You are as bad as zat Tonks," Fleur remarked, kissing Bill's entire face in gratefulness. Genevieve's eyes narrowed. She'd never been extremely close to Tonks, but she was family, and they were good friends. "Tonks could teach you a few things," she muttered under her breath. Fleur, not hearing Genevieve, continued. "She is always knocking — "

"I invited _dear_ Tonks to come along today," Mrs. Weasley cut across her, slamming down the carrots and glowering at Fleur, who stared back proudly. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?" Mrs. Weasley asked, turning her attention on Lupin. Genevieve almost felt sorry for him. This felt more like an interrogation than a friendly lunchtime conversation.

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody," replied Lupin smoothly. "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm," Mrs. Weasley said thoughtfully. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

She shot a sharp glance at Lupin. Harry turned to him.

"Tonks's Patronus has changed its form. Snape said so anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?"

Lupin didn't answer immediately, prolonging the wait as he tried to figure out what to say. "Sometimes . . . a great shock . . . an emotional upheaval . . ."

"It looked big, and it had four legs," described Harry, an idea dawning on his face. Genevieve shifted in her seat. "Hey . . . it couldn't be — ?"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted with perfect timing. She stood up, her hand flying to her chest. She looked out the kitchen window in disbelief. "Arthur — it's Percy!"

 _"What?"_

Everyone's eyes darted to the window. Genevieve frowned, for, walking pompously, chest thrown out, across the yard, was Percy, but he was accompanied by . . .

"Arthur, he's — he's with the Minister!"

"What's he trying to pull?" Genevieve asked lowly to Fred, who looked incensed. He simply shook his head, glaring at Percy, who had flung open the back door and entered the house.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Percy said rigidly. Genevieve stood, not taking her eyes off him.

"Oh, _Percy_!" Mrs. Weasley wailed, engulfing him in a hug.

The Minister smiled pleasantly. "You must forgive this intrusion. Percy and I were in the vicinity — working, you know — and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

"Can't imagine why," Genevieve said loudly. "He's had more than a year to do it."

Percy's eyes narrowed, though Mrs. Weasley ignored her.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" she insisted breathlessly. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding . . . I mean — "

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said graciously. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly, and trust me, miss," he added, not bothering to ask her name, "he did want to see you all . . ."

"Oh, Perce!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, kissing him all over.

". . . We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden . . . Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

Everyone's eyes swiveled between Scrimgeour and Harry. Genevieve shook her head in disbelief. No way Scrimgeour didn't know who Harry was, hadn't wanted to corner him from the moment he took office, and here was his opportunity.

"Yeah, all right," Harry relented, walking over to meet him. "It's fine," he assured an already halfway out of his seat Lupin. "Fine," he told Mr. Weasley, who had tried to speak. _"Fine,"_ he said with slight exasperation to Genevieve, who had started forward anyway.

"Wonderful!" roared Scrimgeour, who had the appearance and apparent sound of a lion. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

"You," Genevieve said furiously, jabbing a finger at Percy, as soon as they had left, "have got some nerve coming back here after all you've done to this _amazing_ family," she gestured to the Weasleys next to her, "and for what? An _excuse_ for the Minister to get Harry on his own? You've slithered your way up to the Minister's own office, and you're still following orders like a mindless drone."

She was met with tense silence from both ends, but she knew Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George agreed with her from the stone-cold looks on their faces.

"Sit down, Percy! Wouldn't you like some food?" Mrs. Weasley offered, overjoyed that her son had returned to her. "You're much too thin, and we have got some of your favorites!"

"No, thank you," he said stiffly, shooting a venomous look at Genevieve. "I'd rather stay standing."

"Figure then it'll be easier for you to walk right back out then, I suppose?" Genevieve said.

"As the Minister of Magic said, Snow," Percy spat, "this will only be a short visit. We have very important work to do. We can't all babysit children, unfortunately."

"Yes, very important work it is, isn't it?" Fred said. "Arresting and accusing innocent people of being Death Eaters?"

"Three arrests you've got now, isn't it?" George asked. "Chucking people into Azkaban just to look productive. It's revolting."

"Fred and George!" Mrs. Weasley said dangerously. "We should just be happy that Percy's come back for Christmas!"

"Yes, I'm personally delighted that Percy's taking advantage of you for Scrimgeour's sake, Mum," Ginny said harshly.

"Ginevra!"

"What the Minister does," Percy said coldly, "is not up to me, as evidenced by the fact that I am here."

"Oh, yes, I'm positive you'd rather be having a nice cup of tea with Umbridge," Ron said viciously. "Following around all your impressive little friends, hoping they'll protect you, give you power, that's always been your stride, Percy, hasn't it?"

"Let's not say anything we'll regret," Lupin interjected calmly as Percy opened his mouth.

"On the contrary, Remus," Fred said, looking at Percy with disgust, "my conscience is quite clear."

"Yes, I suppose you don't regret much," Percy said. "You two have never given much thought to your actions, have you? Dropping out of school, opening a _joke shop_ , of all things. You've sure got a lot to be proud of."

"And turning your back on your own family, that's quite the accomplishment, it is," Genevieve said, her temper uncontrollable.

"Just look at what you've started!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "You abandon us, just to dare to come back on Christmas, no less!"

"Please, calm down, all of you, please — " Mrs. Weasley begged, tears flowing freely.

"Yes, I am especially sorry for having ambition," Percy said, scoffing, "unlike that of anyone in this room. You would have just held me back, an anchor around my neck — "

"Percy," Bill said, his voice quiet but firm. "If all you've come to do is sputter out the same rubbish you said before, and blame us for your mistakes, you can leave right now."

"I will," he promised furiously.

"Not before I do this!" Fred yelled, grabbing a handful of mashed parsnip and flinging it at him. George and Ginny quickly followed his example, though Genevieve refrained from doing it herself, preferring to watch his outraged reaction.

Percy, covered in mashed parsnip, stalked out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him.


	7. Chapter 7: To The Grave

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

"It's been — "

"— More than half a decade, I know," Genevieve interrupted grimly as she and her father looked down at the grave before them.

It was a damp, rainy day, but nevertheless, Genevieve carefully knelt and propped up the latest crossword against the stone.

"I miss you so much, Grandpa," she whispered.

"You know," her father started thoughtfully. Genevieve looked at him. "Well," he said delicately, "your grandfather left me everything in the will, including his house. And I — I just never had the heart to sell it. B-but now you're an adult, maybe you'd like to have it? Someplace to stay during the summer break?"

Genevieve shook her head. "I couldn't. It's just too much — too many memories. I don't think I could ever be truly happy in the place my grandfather died."

He nodded, understanding. "Of course, of course." He paused. "But I might keep it a bit longer."

"I'm not going to change my mind," Genevieve said.

"I know. But you mind find there's more to that old house than meets the eye."

"A house is a house," she said. "What could it possibly hide?"

Her father stared at her for a long time before responding simply. "Sentimentality."

•~0~•

"Hello, Myrtle," she called, entering the bathroom no one else dared to go near without a moment's hesitation.

Usually, Myrtle would float out of her U-bend at once, gloomy as ever, but grateful for the company. Today, however, it was a full five minutes before Myrtle appeared.

"Where've you been?" asked Genevieve curiously.

Myrtle sniffed. "I go to other bathrooms, you know. I don't just stay here all the time. You're not the only person who talks to me, and _he_ really understands me. We have lots in common . . ." She said this last part dreamily.

"What do you have in common?" Genevieve asked with caution. She knew how little it took to set Myrtle off.

"He's sensitive," Myrtle fawned, "people bully him too, and he feels lonely and hasn't got anybody to talk to, and he's not afraid to show his feelings and cry!"

"He's been _crying_?" Genevieve said, concerned.

Myrtle shot her a dirty look. Genevieve surmised that, had she not been one of the only people to show Myrtle any type of kindness, Myrtle would've lost her temper by now.

"You don't understand, he's just got a lot to deal with . . . you couldn't understand . . . no one but _me_ can . . ."

"But if there's a student upset at Hogwarts, perhaps I can help," Genevieve pressed on gently. "Won't you just tell me who he is?"

Myrtle looked offended. "No one can help him but me! I promised to him I wouldn't tell, and I'll take his secret to the — to the — "

Genevieve winced. She knew what was coming. Myrtle had trapped herself with her own words.

"— to the — the — "

Myrtle screeched with despair and dived back into her U-bend with dreadful force. The water gushed out, and Genevieve left quickly, knowing that the entire hallway would soon be flooded.

She ran headfirst into Dumbledore.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized immediately.

He merely smiled calmly. He examined the rapidly filling corridor.

"I see Myrtle has got herself into a bit of a mood."

"Yes, she told me about a boy who's been crying, but refused to tell me who it was when I offered to help, and rather unfortunately used the words 'take his secret to the, well, grave,' " Genevieve explained.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I see."

He was silent for a moment. "A student, a boy, has been crying?"

"Yes," Genevieve said. "Myrtle said that he had a lot to deal with."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," Genevieve remembered something. "I don't know if you are already aware, but on Christmas, the Minister got Harry on his own. Used Percy as an excuse to drop in, and got him to walk 'round the garden with him."

"I see," Dumbledore said. He checked his watch. "Well, I'm afraid I must return to my office. I have a very important meeting to attend."

"Of course," Genevieve said, stepping aside so he could move past her.

•~0~•

"Peeves," Genevieve said with a bit of exasperation and slight amusement.

They had just left the first Apparition lesson for the sixth years, which was about as productive as could be expected, though Susan Bones had managed to, rather painfully, Splinch herself.

Peeves gave her an evil smirk and cackled,

 _Peevsie's here to make sure_ _ickle sixth years aren't a bore!_ _Want to pass? Pay the price!_ _Set fire to your something nice!_

"Peeves, you can't force the students to set fire to their own pants," Genevieve said. _"Aguamenti."_

A fountain of water spurted out of her wand and extinguished Neville's pants. He took off with a mumble of thanks, carrying a burnt scent with him.

"And why not?" Peeves said stubbornly. "You're ruining my fun."

"Because," Genevieve said, thinking fast. "Wouldn't it serve you better to use your talent to bother Filch? I mean, this sort of stunt would only cheer him up; he loves seeing harm done to students."

Peeves stared at her for a moment. "You make a good point, Snow. Where's that slimeball?"

Genevieve quickly directed him to where she'd last seen Filch, while students all around her sighed with relief. She could've sworn, that, as she made her way about the castle, that she heard Filch yelling, in fury and frustration, "PEEVES!"

•~0~•

"Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall looked up. "Yes, Genevieve?"

"Well, I know that this next Hogsmeade weekend was cancelled," Genevieve started, "but the twins are coming to Hogsmeade for a business opportunity, and I was hoping I could meet them there."

"All right," McGonagall relented. "But I don't want to see their products in my classroom, understand?"

Genevieve smiled. "Yes."

"So you're actually thinking of buying Zonko's?" Genevieve asked, looking at the joke shop. "Even though the students aren't allowed out anymore, _and_ your merchandise is banned?"

Fred shrugged. "We didn't think it would ever come to them being cooped up in the castle all the time."

"It would've been popular, though," George said dreamily, imagining it. "A Hogsmeade branch . . ."

A owl fluttered toward them. It dropped a letter that Genevieve caught.

"That'll all have to wait," she said with a look of alarm as she stared at them. "Ron's been poisoned."


	8. Chapter 8: Dreadful Déjà Vu

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

"I'm gone one day, and Katie gets cursed," Genevieve shook her head. "I'm gone another day, and Ron gets poisoned. Can't you lot manage without me?"

"I suppose not," Ginny said, trying to grin, but grimacing instead.

"So, all in all," Fred started, "not one of Ron's better birthdays?"

They were all in the hospital wing, sitting around Ron's bed while he slept.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," George said.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," Fred agreed.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him — "

"You were in Hogsmeade?" interrupted Ginny, surprised.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," Fred explained. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore . . . But never mind that now. How did it happen, Harry?"

Harry told the story as though he'd done it multiple times before, which, Genevieve supposed, he had.

". . . and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so . . . keep taking essence of rue . . ."

"Blimey, that was good thinking," Genevieve said, staring down at Ron. "Most people wouldn't've even thought of a bezoar."

George nodded grimly. "Lucky you thought of it."

"Lucky there was one in the room," Harry countered.

Hermione, unusually pale and silent, sniffed quietly. Genevieve looked at her. Out of all of them, she seemed the most visibly worried about Ron.

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred asked Ginny, who replied:

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago — they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon . . ."

Ron muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep.

"So the poison was in the drink?" Fred asked.

"Yes," Harry said immediately. "Slughorn poured it out — "

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?" Fred pressed.

"Probably," Harry said, "but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?

"No idea," Fred admitted. "You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?"

Genevieve snorted. "Slughorn would much rather have Harry to boast about than kill him. He likes to stand behind people with bright futures. It wouldn't be like him, trust me."

"Maybe that's the point," suggested George. "He could be under the Imperius Curse."

"Or he could be innocent," Ginny pointed out. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?"

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," Harry said. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And . . ." Harry paused. "And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny countered. "So the poison could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

Hermione spoke this time, her voice thick. "Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well. Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"Er-my-nee," Ron rasped suddenly.

Their heads snapped over to him, but he was fast asleep once more.

Genevieve checked her watch. It was getting late.

"I should probably go," she said. At the same time, Hagrid burst in, the doors slamming open. The others merely jumped, but Genevieve, who had just stood up, stumbled back and tripped over her bag. One glance told her that her pesky ankle had sprained again. Ginny helped her to her feet.

"Er — sorry, Genevieve," Hagrid wheezed, out of breath. "Bin in the forest all day! Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to him — didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout told me abou' Ron! How is he?"

"Not bad," Harry answered. "They say he'll be okay."

"No more than six visitors at a time!" Madam Pomfrey reprimanded.

Genevieve motioned to her throbbing ankle.

"I haven't got much of a choice now, have I?" she asked wearily.

"Oh . . . yes . . ." Madam Pomfrey said sheepishly. She and Ginny helped Genevieve into a nearby bed. She healed it quickly.

"I don' believe this," Hagrid said. "Jus' don' believe it . . . Look at him lyin' there . . . Who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"

"That's what we were just discussing," Harry responded. "We don't know."

"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they? Firs' Katie, now Ron . . ."

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," George said.

"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could've got away with it," Fred reasoned.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," Hermione interjected softly.

"How d'you work that out?"

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed."

"Yes," Genevieve said, disturbed by what she was about to say, "but that only makes the person behind this even more dangerous, because they don't seem to care how many people die, as long as their intended target gets killed in the end."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed in. Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry in a hug and commenced nearly suffocating him, weeping, "Dumbledore's told us how you saved him with the bezoar. Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny . . . you saved Arthur . . . now you've saved Ron . . ."

"Don't be . . . I didn't . . ." Harry protested slightly.

"Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it," Mr. Weasley agreed. "Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry."

Madam Pomfrey was all too glad to remind them to the six visitor rule, and Harry and Hermione quickly left.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Genevieve said. "I reckon I'm well enough to go as well."

"Oh — all right," she relented. "But _no stress on that ankle_!" she added sternly. "You've been in here enough because of it."

"I promise," she said, swinging her legs off the bed. She was quite used to the stiff sensation and stood up with relative ease. And with a few last farewells to the Weasleys and a final look at Ron, she departed.

•~0~•

That Saturday was the Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match. As Ron was still in the hospital wing, McLaggen, a very aggressive and self-important seventh year was playing Keeper instead.

This turned out to be a terrible mistake. Though, if there was one silver lining to the game, it was the commentator. Suggested to McGonagall by Genevieve, Luna brought an entirely different and interesting take to the megaphone.

The match started thus:

"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle. He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets that now he's playing them — oh, look, he's lost the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she's very nice."

Genevieve held back a laugh, though McGonagall seemed like she was questioning Luna's new position.

". . . but now that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I can't remember his name, it's something like Bibble — no, Buggins — "

"It's Cadwallader!" Professor McGonagall interrupted with exasperation. Genevieve laughed with the crowd.

"And Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper. I don't think that'll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse . . ."

As the game progressed, it became increasingly obvious that Luna had no interest in the score, but her attention seemed rather more attracted to her own theories and the clouds.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" Professor McGonagall shouted into the megaphone.

"Is it, already? Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."

Genevieve's jaw dropped. McLaggen seemed to feel the need to demonstrate to Peakes, the Beater, how best to hit a Bludger. Harry, furious looking, had flown over to demand McLaggen give the Beater his bat back, and McLaggen had, rather unfortunately, hit him instead. He fell, only to be caught by Peakes and Coote, the other Beater.

The game only spiraled downward for Gryffindor from there. At last, to end their suffering, Hufflepuff won with a score of three hundred and sixty to twenty.

 _Honestly,_ Genevieve thought that night, _Harry simply couldn't catch a break._

•~0~•

She'd, literally, run into quite her share and more of people during her time at Hogwarts, but she hadn't expected to run into Tonks, much less looking sickly and nearly sobbing.

"Tonks," Genevieve said, bewildered. Understanding dawned. "Is this about Greyback?"

Tonks nodded tearfully. The Order knew that Lupin had been undercover, spying on the other werewolves, and news had come that Greyback had attacked someone.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore," Tonks said, trying to push past her.

Genevieve held her back.

"You're not going anywhere until you calm down a bit."

She conjured two chairs. They sat down.

"Listen," Genevieve said, looking Tonks in the eye. "If Greyback had caught a traitor, everyone would know, I'm sure of it. Just because Remus isn't writing to us doesn't mean that he's dead or injured, okay?"

Tonks nodded weakly. "But what if, one day, he does die, and he's never accepted that I love him for who he is instead of who I think he should be?"

Genevieve smiled slightly. "Remus isn't one to avoid reason forever. He knows how much you love him, and he loves you too. Once he truly believes you love him, despite his flaws, you two will make us all sick with your sweet nothings."

Tonks took a deep, shuddering breath and stood up. The chair vanished behind her. "Thanks, Genevieve. That helped some."

Genevieve hugged her. "Good. Now, go find Dumbledore."


	9. Chapter 9: Murder in the Bathroom

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Aragog had died, but Katie had returned. Finally deemed well enough to return to school, Genevieve and Katie had spent the better part of the morning talking, though Katie couldn't remember who'd given her the necklace. Meanwhile, the death of the giant acromantula that Hagrid had had since before he was expelled devastated him. It was funny, Genevieve mused, how the good always came mixed up with the bad.

And the frustrating.

Genevieve had never had to wait for Myrtle _this_ long before. Sure, the ghost had become less attentive over the course of the past year, always crooning on about the crying boy, which had become a bit of a tiring subject, but she had never allowed it to interfere with the crossword sessions.

Genevieve tapped her foot impatiently. There was no reason for Myrtle to miss today. They'd settled into a bit of a schedule over the past few years, one they stuck to fairly well, so she definitely knew that Genevieve would be waiting for her in the bathroom.

Just then, an ear-shattering cry broke out, very muffled, and probably coming from numerous floors up, but very loud, and very distinctly Myrtle's. It said something extremely alarming, so much so that Genevieve was unsure she'd heard it correctly.

"MURDER!" it screamed. "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

Genevieve jumped to her feet. Myrtle couldn't've been serious, could she? She had known of an instance in which anyone had actually died at Hogwarts, though it had come close on several occasions, since Myrtle's own death, fifty or so years prior. And Myrtle _was_ known for exaggerating greatly, especially when it concerned less-than-ideal circumstances. She was called "Moaning Myrtle" for a reason, after all.

But Myrtle swooped in moments later, gleefully regaling Genevieve with the tale of Harry nearly murdering Malfoy upon rudely barging into their bathroom.

"Wait," Genevieve interrupted, stunned. " _Malfoy_ was the crying boy?"

"Oh yes," said Myrtle impatiently. "Anyway, he hit Draco with some sort of curse I'd never heard of, and Draco started bleeding like mad. For no reason, too. He just walked into the bathroom and attacked him!"

"Myrtle," Genevieve said cautiously, "Are you sure there was no reason?"

"Well — okay," she sighed. "Draco saw him, and, _very reasonably_ , sent a few curses his way, and they exchanged some spells before Draco started to say something like _'Cruci—'_ and _then_ , Harry attacked him for no reason."

"No reason?" Genevieve said incredulously, pacing back and forth. "It sounds as though Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse on the bloke! I'm not condoning his actions at all, believe me," Genevieve drew a breath that shook with anger, "but it seems like both parties are to blame. It would be a bit hard to punish Malfoy at the moment, though, seeing as he's likely in the hospital wing!"

Myrtle glared at her.

"I've got to talk to McGonagall," Genevieve breathed before rushing out."

Myrtle called after her. "Reckon that means I can tell everyone what's happened?"

"Do _not_ , Myrtle!" warned Genevieve, but the ghost was gone.

It took a while for things to settle down, but as soon as they did, McGonagall sent Genevieve to retrieve Harry from the common room.

"Harry," Genevieve groaned as they walked, rubbing her forehead, "why, why, _why_ would you use such a spell? Malfoy could've died, d'you realize that? You could've killed him."

Harry looked sick with himself as well, but opened his mouth to say, "But Malfoy was going to use an Unforgivable — "

Genevieve cut across him. "I've already heard the story, trust me. Myrtle and Snape made sure of that. But there were so many _less violent_ ways for you to have gone about protecting yourself!"

"I didn't know what it was going to do!" Harry said pleadingly. "I just read it in — "

"Do you mean to say," Genevieve lowered her voice, "that this Half-Blood Prince invented the spell?"

Harry nodded, gulping.

"And you _used_ it, unaware of what it was going to do?"

He nodded again, his eyes dropping to his feet.

"That was so incredibly stupid!" Genevieve stopped and faced him. "You could've been expelled, or worse! You're lucky Snape didn't kill _you_ on the spot, I certainly would have!"

"Well, I'm getting punished, aren't I?" Harry shot back. "Detention with Snape every Saturday until the end of term . . . I'll miss the last Quidditch match . . ."

"And you deserved so much more! D'you truly understand what you've done? You almost killed someone. And if they had died, their death wouldn't've been their fault, or anybody else's. It would've been _yours._ You would've had to live, knowing that you killed someone, knowing that their death was your fault."

"Haven't I already got to do that?" Harry said, looking fiercely up at Genevieve. "My parents died protecting me, weren't their deaths my fault? And what about Sirius? He only came to the Ministry because _I_ was there. Because I had been foolish enough to believe that he was in danger!"

"Harry," Genevieve said, her voice softer and calmer. "My mum died because she wanted to protect me. She died wanting to make a safer world for me to grow up in. And Sirius? Who do you think was dueling alongside him when he died? You think I haven't blamed myself too? You think I haven't thought that I should've protected him? If we think hard enough, we could take the death of every person we knew, and find a way to blame ourselves. We would live a miserable existence.

"But there's a difference between giving someone something to die for, between being there when someone dies, and having them die at your hands. And the latter is so much worse than the former."

She started walking again.

"Now, what you're going to hear for the next fifteen minutes is McGonagall saying much of what I've just said."

She opened the door. "Good luck."

•~0~•

Genevieve couldn't believe it. Even without Harry, Gryffindor has done phenomenally well. The final score had been four hundred and fifty to one hundred and forty. Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup once again!

She joined a sweaty-but-thrilled Katie walking back to the common room.

"So," she started, "how was that for your last match?"

Katie beamed. "It more than makes up for getting cursed and missing the first two, though I do wish that hadn't happened." She shuddered slightly.

"Yeah, I think anyone would," Genevieve agreed.

"You coming to celebrate?" Katie asked.

"Definitely."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione fell into step with them, all of them with radiant smiles on their faces.

"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on Harry's face when we tell him," Ginny said happily.

Hermione and Genevieve exchanged looks, but said nothing.

"I can't believe that was it," Katie said, oblivious. "My last Quidditch match. Soon I'll be gone from Hogwarts completely."

"But not yet," Genevieve added. "I, for one, can't imagine how dreary Hogwarts will be without the brilliant Katie Bell here to shine her light."

Katie bumped her arm. "You survived a year without me," she laughed.

"Yes, and what a dreary year that was," Genevieve said dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "Oh, the horror of reliving it!"

They all laughed. Ron clutched the Cup tightly. Genevieve rested the crook of her elbow on top of his shoulder.

"So, Ron," she joked, "when are you due to get married?"

"Wh-what?" he stuttered nervously. "Marry who?"

"To the Quidditch Cup, of course!" she motioned to the silver Cup as if it were obvious. "The way you're holding that thing, you're either cherishing it or trying to break it."

He chuckled nervously, but, when he thought no one was watching, stole a glance at Hermione. Genevieve bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Back in the common room, they kept an eye on the portrait hole for Harry. When he finally crawled through, they greeted him cheerfully, pulling him into the room with them.

"We won!" Ron explained joyously. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"

Ginny full out ran toward him, throwing her arms around him. Then he did something no one — or, almost no one — expected.

He kissed her. A long passionate kiss that silenced everyone in the room except for Genevieve, who said with a fair amount of exasperation,

"Oh come on, why have I always got to witness these things?"

Harry and Ginny, it seemed, didn't hear her. Or anyone. They were completely lost in their own world of heated snogging. After what seemed like an eternity, they separated, both panting.

Harry immediately looked to Ron, who looked simultaneously betrayed, offended, and understanding. He — wordlessly — gave Harry his permission, to which Genevieve grinned like an idiot, and Harry and Ginny quickly exited the room.

•~0~•

"Genevieve," said Professor McGonagall urgently. "Dumbledore will be leaving the school for a few hours, and he has told us to patrol the corridors. Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora will be joining us."

Genevieve looked up at her, confused. She set aside her book. "Dumbledore has left the school before, for longer than a few hours. Why would he want us to patrol now?"

"I don't know."

•~0~•

 **A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait.**


	10. Chapter 10: We Meet Again

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

"I'll check the secret entrances on the top three floors of the castle," Genevieve volunteered.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "And how, pray tell, are you aware of all of the secret entrances in the castle?" she asked curiously.

Genevieve grinned. "You're forgetting that the Weasley twins and I were nearly inseparable during our own time at Hogwarts. We learned rather a lot about the school — with some help, of course."

She shot a quick glance at Lupin, who seemingly choked on air. McGonagall shook her head, Bill smirked understandingly, and even Tonks gave a strained smile.

"I can see why my brother likes you," Bill commented offhandedly.

"You might have to be a tad more specific," said Genevieve.

Bill chuckled and shook his head. "Never mind."

She gave him a questioning look, but said, "All right."

While checking the seventh floor, she heard something, almost like a hiss. Then, hushed voices.

"He must be in there; he's not on the map!"

"Shut _up_ , Ron! Someone's coming!"

There was a sharp intake of breath. Genevieve turned a corner. Ron, Ginny, and Neville stared back at her.

"Oh, it's just Genevieve."

"Wait a second, I've got to give her some Felix; she'll probably need some as well."

Ginny produced a small bottle. "Harry reckons Malfoy's going to try and pull something tonight, so we're keeping watch on the Room of Requirement. He also gave us this." She showed Genevieve the potion.

"Felix Felicis," breathed Genevieve. "But why?"

"Just in case. There should be enough for you to have some, though," Ginny offered it to her.

"No, I couldn't, not when I know the others couldn't have some as well," Genevieve said. "Bill, Remus, and Tonks are here too. You lot need it more than us anyway. Just be careful."

Ginny nodded. "All right."

"Come find me if you need any help."

"Trust us, we will," Neville said at once.

"Harry's got good judgement. If he believes there's cause to worry, I'll assist any way I can," Genevieve went on. I'm guessing Hermione and Luna will be watching Snape?"

They nodded.

"All right, well, I trust you lot to be out. All the secret passages seem good on this floor, so I'm going to see to the other ones."

About an hour later, Genevieve met up with the others.

"Everything seems fine on my part," she told them. "But a few D.A. students are watching out as well, and I told them it was okay, because I really don't have a good feeling about tonight."

They nodded solemnly. McGonagall, always the voice of reason, pointed out, "All of the secret passageways are secure, and the castle has much too powerful enchantments to allow anyone in. There's no reason to worry."

Genevieve knew she was right, but she worried anyway.

Suddenly, Ron, Ginny, and Neville stumbled into them.

"M-Malfoy!" Ron burst out. Ginny explained.

"He threw something in the air, everything went pitch black, and we could hear people rushing past us."

"I'm putting a bet on 'Death Eaters,' " Genevieve sighed.

They hurried to find them, and they did. Genevieve and the others followed the Death Eaters toward the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy saw them first.

He reached into his robes, presumably for more of what Genevieve had immediately recognized as Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and came up empty. The Death Eaters caught on, and started firing curses.

The Order and D.A. fired them back. The Death Eaters dispersed, Genevieve and the others quick on their trail.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_ screamed a Death Eater. The curse narrowly missed Genevieve, who cried, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Unlike him, her aim was true. He dropped, rigid as a board, and Genevieve stepped over him to the others.

Another Death Eater shot off, _"Expulso!"_

Genevieve was blasted back into a wall. She winced, but stood up quickly.

"Thanks for the idea!" she yelled, pointing her wand at the banister beside them. _"Confringo!"_

It exploded, the rubble flying into their eyes and arm.

Another Death Eater that Genevieve thought might have been named Gibbon separated from the mass, rushing up the tower stairs. Genevieve aimed an Impediment Jinx at him, but he was too fast, and more Death Eaters surrounded her.

As she battled more and more, she kept an eye out for those around her, in case they needed help. Gibbon was back, and now he was dead, hit by a Killing Curse that Lupin barely avoided.

They chased the Death Eaters through the castle, dueling all the time. Finally, one approached Genevieve that made her blood boil.

"Ah, dear relative!" cackled Bellatrix. "We meet again!"

"Forgive me if I don't feel honored by your presence!" Genevieve retorted venomously, her teeth gritted. _"Stupefy!"_

Bellatrix dodged the spell easily. "Oh, but you should! A filthy little half-blood like you should be proud to die at my hands! But where would the fun in that be without a little pain? _Crucio!"_

Genevieve ducked. "You might want to work on your spellwork! It seems like you simply repeat the same ones!" she taunted. _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

"Why should I?" Bellatrix laughed. "These are _all_ I need! _Crucio_!"

She hit her target this time. Genevieve screamed in pain, collapsing to the floor as Bellatrix cackled.

 _"Avis!"_ Genevieve whispered. A flock of canaries shot out of her wand, it sounding like a gun, but the noise was too hectic, and Bellatrix too distracted with her delight.

Genevieve stood, still writhing, but determined. She pointed her wand at Bellatrix, who finally noticed the birds circling Genevieve's head.

"Oh, how pretty," she crooned. "They can die with you."

"Or — " Genevieve said. _"Oppugno!"_

The canaries darted toward Bellatrix, pecking savagely at everything they could reach, which, given her wardrobe, was quite a lot. She howled, trying to rid herself of them, while Genevieve calmly walked away, a smirk on her face.

She saw it and shouted a moment too late. Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had bitten Lupin, stood victoriously over Bill, who had been savaged beyond recognition.

"Bill!" Genevieve rushed over, firing a Bat-Bogey Hex at Greyback to match Ginny's. He stumbled back. Genevieve knelt beside Bill, who groaned.

"You're going to be okay," she said comfortingly.

"Am I?" he moaned.

She hesitated. "It's not a full moon, so at the very least you won't sprout fur every month."

His laugh quickly turned into a cough. "I suppose that's a silver lining. That is, if I live."

"Don't even think about that," Genevieve said sharply. "You _will_ live. And — just think about what you have to look forward to! You're getting married, to a beautiful woman who truly loves you. Think about Fleur, okay?"

Bill nodded stiffly. "Watch out," He rasped suddenly.

Genevieve ducked, a Killing Curse whistling past her ear.

"Go," he urged, "I'm fine right here. And you're needed. Just look around."

Genevieve glanced at the chaos around her. The Death Eaters were winning, Neville had been injured.

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly. She got to her feet. "But if you die, I'll kill you."

"Deal," he said.

She rejoined the fight, managing to Disarm several before she noticed something.

"Malfoy's gone!" she shouted.

"And more are running after him!" Lupin finished, hurrying in their direction.

One Death Eater stopped, faced them, and cast some kind of curse. Neville dashed after anyway, and was thrown back by an invisible barrier.

"They've blocked the stairs — _Reducto! REDUCTO!"_ Genevieve cried.

A very large Death Eater shot off spells in every direction, causing all kinds of chaos and disruption, and though they tried, the barrier wouldn't budge.

All of a sudden, Snape appeared and ran through as though it were nothing but air. Lupin attempted to follow and it did the same to him as it had done to Neville.

They could do nothing but continue trying to break through, to no avail. At long last, the massive Death Eater's carelessness freed them. A large chunk of ceiling collapsed from one of his spells, breaking the curse along with it.

They dashed forward, pausing only to allow Snape, who was with Malfoy, through, Genevieve assuming that he was getting Malfoy to safety and out of the way.

They continued dueling the Death Eaters, Genevieve Disarming as many as she could. When she saw Harry, she breathed an audible sigh of relief: if Harry was back, that meant Dumbledore would be back, and all would be well.

He rushed past the lot of them, sometimes aiding the Order and D.A. members in their battles.

And then the Death Eaters were gone, escaped, and Genevieve, exhausted, helped Bill to the hospital wing, the others close behind her with Neville.

Madam Pomfrey looked horrified, but ushered them in anyway, pushing Bill into a bed and handing Genevieve a bit of ointment, instructing her to dab it on her wounds.

Genevieve looked down in surprise. Her robes were ripped, and she had graze marks all along her arms. Running a finger along her cheek, she felt scratches, that were, while not severe, plentiful. She quickly applied the ointment and passed it to the others.

Genevieve and the others took seats beside Bill's bed, staring mournfully into his ripped face.

The doors opened. Genevieve glanced up. It was Harry and Ginny. Lupin and Hermione stood and walked toward him to greet him.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine . . . How's Bill?" he asked tentatively.

To this, Genevieve, once again taking notice of his slashed face, had no response.

"Can't you fix them with a charm or something?" he asked Madam Pomfrey, who shook her head.

"No charm will work on these. I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," Ron pointed out, worry evident in his voice. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a — a real — ?"

Genevieve looked desperately and hopefully at Lupin.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," Lupin replied, "but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely to ever heal fully, and — and Bill might have some wolffish characteristics from now on."

"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron insisted. "Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state — "

"Ron — " Ginny started, "Dumbledore's dead."

Genevieve put her head in her hands as Lupin cried, "No!" But there was no correction from Harry. Dumbledore, their leader and friend, _was_ dead.

"No," she whispered in horror.

"How did he die?" asked Tonks quietly. "How did it happen?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Snape killed him. I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was . . . Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak — and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him — "

Genevieve sank to the floor. Harry continued.

"— more Death Eaters arrived — and then Snape — and Snape did it. The _Avada Kedavra_."

"That bastard," Genevieve said venomously as Madam Pomfrey began to sob.

Ginny hushed then both. "Shh! Listen!"

Genevieve immediately recognized the sounds. Outside, Fawkes was singing mournfully, in a way that gave her grief volume. She was entranced, caught up in the music, and they listened for such a long time that Genevieve did not know how long it was before Professor McGonagall strode in.

"Molly and Arthur are on their way," she told them. Genevieve snapped to attention, standing up and turning to gaze at Bill once again.

McGonagall went on. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he — when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some — "

"Snape killed Dumbledore," Harry interrupted bluntly.

McGonagall looked as though she might faint. Madam Pomfrey conjured a chair to catch her.

"Snape," McGonagall said, her voice barely audible. "We all wondered . . . but he trusted . . . always . . . _Snape_. . . I can't believe it . . ."

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," Lupin pointed out, anger edging his voice. "We always knew that."

"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" Tonks said, her voice hoarse. "I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't . . ."

"Me too," Genevieve agreed solemnly. "I can't believe Dumbledore would trust him . . ."

"He did always hint that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape," McGonagall said. "I mean . . . with Snape's history . . . of course people were bound to wonder . . . but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine . . . Wouldn't hear a word against him!"

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," Tonks muttered.

"I know," Harry said. Genevieve looked at him in surprise. "Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort Hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he was sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."

"And Dumbledore believed that?" Lupin asked in disbelief. "Dumbledore believe Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape _hated_ James . . ."

"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either," Harry said harshly, "because she was Muggle-born . . . 'Mudblood,' he called her . . ."

"Dumbledore was easily the cleverest and wisest person in any given room," Genevieve said. "How could he believe that?"

No one answered. Finally, McGonagall said abruptly:

"This is all my fault. My fault." She wrung her tear stained handkerchief distractedly. "I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don't think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming."

"It isn't your fault," Genevieve and Lupin said at the same time.

"You couldn't have known," Genevieve assured her. "None of us did."

"We all wanted more help," Lupin agreed, "we were glad to think Snape was on his way . . ."

"So when he arrived at the fight," Harry began, "he joined in on the Death Eaters' side?"

"I don't know exactly how it happened," McGonagall answered. "It's all so confusing . . . Dumbledore had told us that he would be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol the corridors just in case . . . Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora were to join us . . . and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway out of the school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still don't know how the Death Eaters can possibly have entered . . ."

"I do," Harry said, informing them of the pair of broken Vanishing Cabinets, one at Hogwarts and one in Borgin and Burkes. Genevieve clapped her hand to her forehead.

"I should've known, should've known to check. Especially after Montague . . ."

They continued going over the night's events, each group giving their account of what'd happened and the others filling in the blanks. Genevieve still couldn't believe it. Dumbledore, dead, and Snape, the murderer . . .

When at last there was nothing more to say, they sat listening to Fawkes once again. Genevieve hugged her legs.

The doors flew open. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Fleur strode in.

"Molly — Arthur — " Professor McGonagall got to her feet. "I am so sorry — "

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley said faintly. "Oh, _Bill_!"

Genevieve, Lupin, and Tonks moved out of the way. She took the ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began to dab Bill's face.

"You said Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked. "But he hadn't transformed? So what does that mean? What will happen to Bill?"

"We don't yet know," Professor McGonagall said.

Lupin guessed. "There will probably be some contamination, Arthur. It is an odd case, possibly unique . . . We don't know what his behavior might be like when he awakens . . ."

"And Dumbledore . . ." Mr. Weasley went on. "Minerva, is it true . . . Is he really . . . ?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. Genevieve watched for Fleur's reaction, but she was still enough to pass for a statue.

"Dumbledore gone," Mr. Weasley said quietly as Mrs. Weasley began to sob over Bill.

"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks . . . It's not r-really important . . . but he was a very handsome little b-boy . . . always very handsome . . . and he was g-going to be married!"

Fleur finally spoke, her voice harsh. "And what do you mean by zat? What do you mean, ''e was _going_ to be married?' "

"Well — only that — "

"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" Fleur said furiously, her accent coming through thicker than ever. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"

"No, that's not what I — "

"Because 'e will!" Fleur insisted. "It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"

"Well, yes, I'm sure, but I though perhaps — given how — how he — "

Fleur was offended. "You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped? What do I care how he looks? I am good-look for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband in brave! And I shall do zat!" She shoved Mrs. Weasley out of the way and took the ointment from her.

Genevieve winced in advance, preparing for what could only be one of Mrs. Weasley's greatest rants.

"Our Great-Auntie Muriel," Mrs. Weasley said at last, "has a very beautiful tiara — goblin-made — which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

"Thank you," Fleur said coldly. "I am sure zat will be lovely."

And without another word, without warning, the two women were sobbing and clinging to each other. Genevieve nearly jumped at the suddenness of it all.

"You see!" Tonks exclaimed, glowering at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

Lupin looked extremely uncomfortable. "It's different. Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely — "

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" Tonks cried, grabbing onto Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times . . ."

"And I've told _you_ a million times," Lupin said, looking solely at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor . . . too dangerous . . ."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," Mrs. Weasley cut in.

"I am not being ridiculous. Tonks deserves somebody young and whole."

"But she wants you," Mr. Weasley said. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so," he added, motioning to his son.

Lupin looked to Genevieve wildly, seemingly hoping against hope that she would take his side.

"Don't look at me, mate," she gave him a good-natured smile. "I've agreed with this lot all along." She leaned forward. "You deserve a bit of love in your life."

"This is . . . not the moment to discuss it. Dumbledore is dead . . ."

Professor McGonagall responded this time. "Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world."

Hagrid walked in, shaky from crying.

"I've . . . I've done it, Professor. M-moved him. Professor Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin' down, but he says he'll be all righ' in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin informed."

"Thank you, Hagrid," replied McGonagall. "I shall have to see to the Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of Houses — Slughorn can represent Slytherin — that I want to see them in my office forthwith. I would like you and, of course, Genevieve to join us too."

Genevieve and Hagrid made their way to the office that had previously been Dumbledore's, collecting the Heads as they went. McGonagall and Harry were already there when they arrived.

"Snape!" Slughorn exclaimed, looking possibly the most shaken, and definitely most sweaty, of the group. "Snape! I taught him! I thought I knew him!"

A portrait of a former headmaster spoke. "Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," Professor McGonagall said before addressing them.

"I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here. Personally, I am not convinced that the school should reopen next year. The death of the headmaster at the hands of one of our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts's history. It is horrible."

"Of course Hogwarts should reopen!" Genevieve said. She was surprised by her own outburst and hastened to explain herself. "This school has always been a haven from the chaos that looms outside, a safe place. Even when that horrible Umbridge woman was here, I still felt more at home here than in that chaos. I want to extend that same haven to other students, _especially_ after Dumbledore's death. They need somewhere to feel safe."

"I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school to remain open," Professor Sprout agreed. "I feel that if a single pupil wants to come, then the school ought to remain open for that pupil."

"But will we have a single pupil after this?" Slughorn cut in. "This 'safe place' was invaded by Death Eaters, which only proved that it can be susceptible to danger as well. Parents will want to keep their children at home and I can't say I blame them. Personally, I don't think we're in more danger at Hogwarts than we are anywhere else, but you can't expect mothers to think like that. They'll want to keep their families together, it's only natural."

"I agree," McGonagall said. "And in any case, it is not true to say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts might close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the closure of the school — and I must say that Professor Dumbledore's murder is more disturbing to me than the idea of Slytherin's monster living undetected in the bowels of the castle . . ."

"We must consult the governors," Flitwick said. "We must follow the established procedures. A decision should not be made hastily."

"Hagrid, you haven't said anything," Professor McGonagall turned to the half-giant. "What are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?"

"I dunno, Professor . . . that's fer the Heads of Houses an' Genevieve an' the headmistress ter decide . . ."

"Professor Dumbledore always valued your views," McGonagall told him gently, "and so do I."

"Well, I'm stayin'. It's me home, it's bin me home since I was thirteen. An' if there's kids who wan' me ter teach 'em, I'll do it. But . . . I dunno . . . Hogwarts without Dumbledore . . ."

"Very well," McGonagall said, "then I must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to consult the governors, who will make the final decision.

"Now, as to getting students home . . . there is an argument for doing it sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to come tomorrow if necessary — "

"What about Dumbledore's funeral?" Harry interrupted.

"Well," McGonagall hesitated, her voice shaking slightly. "I — I know that it was Dumbledore's wish to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts — "

"Then that's what'll happen, isn't it?"

"If the Ministry thinks it appropriate. No other headmaster or headmistress has ever been — "

"No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school," Hagrid said firmly.

"Hogwarts should be Dumbledore's final resting place," Flitwick agreed.

"Without a shadow of a doubt," Genevieve said.

"Absolutely," Sprout said.

"And in that case," Harry went on, "you shouldn't send the students home until the funeral's over. They'll want to say — "

He couldn't bring himself to say the word, so Sprout finished it for him.

"Goodbye."

"Well said," Flitwick said. "Well said indeed! Our students should pay tribute, it is fitting. We can arrange transport home afterward."

"Seconded."

"Agreed."

"I suppose . . . yes . . ." relented Slughorn.

"He's coming," McGonagall said abruptly. "The Minister . . . and by the looks of it, he's brought a delegation . . ."

"Can I leave, Professor?" Harry asked immediately.

"You may. And quickly."

McGonagall stood and held the door open for him. Genevieve leaned against the wall, steeling herself for what was to come.

•~0~•

 **A/N: It has been brought to my attention by TAPIR forum and Critics United that my story (or stories) have in some way violated a rule. I would like to politely ask what rule I have broken, so I can try to amend my story (or stories). If it is a copyright issue, I put a disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter giving the credit of the Harry Potter plot and characters to J.K. Rowling, with the only thing I own being my own characters and storyline. If I have inadvertently plagiarized another author's work, I would like to say that I am severely sorry, and it was completely unintentional. If it is something else, I would like you to elaborate, as essentially the only thing I was told was "** **[I] have been found breaking of rules by TAPIR forum and Critics United and [I] will be mass reported by [TAPIR forum and Critics United] and [I] will be banned." However, they did, very nicely, tell me to "Enjoy your ban rule breaker."**

 **Disclaimer: Any grammar or punctuation issues in the above quotes were present in the actual report.**


	11. Chapter 11: And What Now?

**A/N:** **The credit of the Harry Potter plot and characters belongs solely to J.K. Rowling, with the only thing I own being my own characters and storyline.**

 **That's right, even under threat of banishment, I have decided to march onward with my story. Save your gasps for another day, and allow my boldness no more attention.**

 **It is in my humble opinion that, as I have patiently waited nearly a week and have still received no reply as to how my writing breaks any rules, _nor_ have I received any solutions as to how to fix them, there is no point in giving up. **

**I believe that I owe it to Genevieve herself to get as far along in her story as I possibly can, and if I manage to finish, huzzah that her heroism has been given light.**

 **I also have a new story idea that I am saving for when — and I do dare to say "when", not "if" — I finish Genevieve's story.**

 **So before my critics have to opportunity to commence what I can only assume to an extremely unceremonious attempt to rip my writing from the pages of existence, I will continue to the best of my ability.**

 **And now that my flair for the dramatic has been satisfied, on to the chapter!**

•~0~•

The next couple days passed in a daze, or perhaps that was simply how Genevieve was existing — in a daze. Of course, Dumbledore's death should not have come as such a crippling shock to them, indeed it was a move that the Order could have easily predicted, what with Dumbledore's status as the only one Voldemort feared, and Genevieve had certainly faced death in her life before.

But perhaps it was a combination of the fact that their leader, their mentor, the one whom they had always looked to, was forever lost to them, and the fact that his death was at the hands of someone Dumbledore had so fiercely trusted. Perhaps that was why Genevieve and the others had taken his death with such devastation.

The morning of his funeral, Genevieve dressed in black dress robes, devoid of any lace, frills, or color. She peered in the mirror. A ghostly white reflection with dark circles around the eyes and not the slightest hint of a smile stared back, her eyes boring into Genevieve.

 _This is for Dumbledore_ , she reminded herself, _I can't be like Myrtle for the rest of my life._ So she held out her wand and conjured a small red phoenix brooch, pinning it to the front of her robes.

Dumbledore and McGonagall had taken a chance on her, Genevieve must always remember that. They had given her an opportunity most others wouldn't. They'd given her so much, and she'd learned so much from the two of them, just over the past year. His death was as much a tragedy and elicited as much pain for her as it did the others.

The funeral was attended by others Dumbledore had given chances, even, perhaps, when they didn't deserve them. It was attended by his friends, his colleagues, his students. It was attended by ghosts, centaurs, merpeople. Even Grawp came and bawled along with Hagrid. It was attended by the D.A., the Order, the Ministry. It was attended by the people Dumbledore had touched in his life, a long life cut short, attended by people who were torn by his death, people who respected and admired him.

Someone got up and spoke words that might have described Dumbledore, but not the version Genevieve had known. The centaurs and merpeople gave tribute in their own, beautiful ways. Fawkes did too, encasing Dumbledore's body in a white tomb, his final gesture of unwavering loyalty.

She sat numbly through the words and wails, the songs and arrows, the flames and tears. Her father clutched her hand, and her other hand clutched her mother's locket.

When it was over, she stood and walked to where the twins, Bill, and Fleur were.

"What d'you reckon will happen now Dumbledore's gone?" Fred was asking.

"I doubt it'll be too long before the Ministry falls," Genevieve said grimly. " then who knows what'll happen to the Muggleborns?"

She looked to her father, who was talking rather seriously to Lupin and Tonks, whose hair was once again pink. George and Bill followed her gaze and squeezed her hand. Fleur sniffed. Genevieve smiled slightly, tears threatening to fall at last, and yet comforted by the gesture. Bill really hadn't changed much since the attack, though his scars were severe and his appetite for meat on the raw side had greatly increased.

"How we'll manage to defeat Voldemort without him is what I'm wondering," George said.

"We'll do it, I know we will," Bill said reassuringly, giving Fleur a kiss on the cheek. She smiled triumphantly. Genevieve suppressed the desire to laugh.

"I s'pose it's just hard to imagine it all," Fred went on, his gaze fixed on the white tomb.

Genevieve and the others nodded agreement, though her eyes landed on something that truly revolted her.

She strode over to where a woman with perfectly curled blonde hair and red talons held a notebook, her Quick Quotes Quill scribbling furiously.

 _"Evanesco,"_ Genevieve commanded. The notebook vanished. Rita Skeeter looked up, enraged. "This is no place for you or your quill, and I'm sure Dumbledore would agree. Now leave, or I might spill a secret of yours to a certain Minister. And trust me, I'll make sure he cares," she added tensely, nodding her head at Scrimgeour.

With a withering glare, Rita scurried away.

Genevieve's father approached gently.

"Ready to go home?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Genevieve gulped silently, and nodded. It was better for them to discuss what she had to tell him in private. He wasn't going to take it well.

•~0~•

"I can't believe you would expect me to _ever_ do this!" he yelled, hardly bothering to conceal his anger.

"I hate to think of this too, Dad, trust me!" Genevieve retorted. "But you have to understand, things are different now that Dumbledore's not here to protect us anymore!" She looked him dead in the eye. "They're going to come after you, more fiercely than ever before. And you can't let them catch you."

"I'm _not_ leaving you," he hissed. "Not now, not ever!"

"I'm not saying you have to leave now," Genevieve fought to keep her voice level. "But this is something we have to seriously consider. Staying in any one place isn't safe anymore, and we can't rely on the Order to protect you, they're going to be focused on protecting Harry, and it would be selfish even to ask."

"I've done too much anyway," her father collapsed into a chair, shaking his head. "They're going to find me and kill me, no matter if I run or if I stay, and I'd much rather stay with you than run."

"They won't kill you if I have got a say in it," Genevieve told him, eyes flashing dangerously. "And this is my say: your chances of survival are far better if you run than if you stay. And we won't be together anyway; I'm going back to Hogwarts come September. The students are going to need me."

"So leave me be!"

"I _can't_!" Genevieve put her head in her hands. "I can't lose you too."

Her father's face softened.

"Look," he began, taking a deep breath and letting it, shakily, go. "When your mother died, I promised myself that I would always be here to protect you, because she couldn't anymore. We're all in danger now — "

"— But you are, even more so than me, because of your blood!" Genevieve cut in. "You're the one in danger!"

"I'm sure I'm not top on their list of priorities at the moment!" he shot back.

"You're close enough!"

"The first person they'll want to take out will be Harry, not me, and Merlin knows I'm not planning on changing that anytime soon, so worry about Harry."

"I can worry about both of you, thank you very much!"

"My decision is final," he said in a tone that had always before made Genevieve stop in her tracks.

It didn't this time.

"It's not just your decision to make!"

"I survived a war before, I can do it again!"

"I'd rather not take that chance!"

"How high are the odds that I'll die just for being a Muggleborn?"

Genevieve looked out the window. She could almost imagine the Death Eaters now, watching them, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, to once again take everything Genevieve cherished away from her. She wouldn't let them do it again.

"Too high."


End file.
